


Shelter from the Star-Storm

by Omano



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Character, Asexual Michael, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Implied Michael/Lucifer (Supernatural), M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Romance, Polyamory, lots of implied things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's job, his own temper and Lucifer's mere existence, dare he say Lucifer-ness, puts a serious strain on his relationship with the Devil on Earth. So when it comes to spitting brimstone and holy fire at each other Michael packs up his boots and rifle gun, and seeks out some comforting cuddle-time with Gabriel. Who, by this time, really should make up his mind if he is fine with the impromptu visits or should just finally get a passport and leave the country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter from the Star-Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dsha801](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsha801/gifts).



> This was born out of a random thought of how Gabriel could have helped Michael and Heaven if he could have stayed, and didn't run away to play Pagan. I personally like the two of them cuddling *shrugs*. Also since I'm a hopeless Michifer shipper, Michael and Lucifer are together... just, well, every relationship has their fights. Theirs only have a little more. And also a little more passionate. 
> 
> I hope you'll like it :)

 

On his entire way home Gabriel had been wondering if it was a good decision to pass the store without buying himself some treats after the long day at the bakery. Maybe he still had some of that divine chocolate cake. It’s just – he couldn’t recall with utmost certainty that he hadn’t devoured it all two days ago. He definitely didn’t last night, because it was a movie night with chocolate mousse he should have switched for ice cream—

His fingers were still curled around the doorknob, door already clicked shut behind him, when he froze.

In his apartment the shower was running. He frowned. There were no angry neighbors waiting for him with the kitchen knife due to a soaked through ceiling, so it probably wasn’t Gabriel who left the water on.

Slowly, he inched toward the dresser where he usually kept his keys hung above, and slipped his hand between its back and the wall. The very tip of his finger brushed the slick surface of his gun. The touch still chilled him to the bone.

He might be simply overreacting. Maybe he had a one night stand the other day and the girl decided to sleep in. Gabriel tended to be forgetful nowadays (he was seriously expecting when it’d cost him his life), because clearly, why would any kind of intruder decide to take a shower while they were out for Gabriel’s head?

To cause a distracting sound maybe…?

However, the moment his eyes landed on a pair of shiny black, leather shoes neatly placed next to each other and under a just as neatly hung up suit jacket he sighed in relief. For a second he was seriously worried.

Gabriel looted through his pockets, even turned his backpack inside out, but finally he pulled out a pack of choco chips. With a wide grin he opened the packet and poured a couple of the chocolate drops into either pockets of the fine jacket.

That’s for almost giving him a heart attack. Freaking _again_.

 

By the time the shower turned off Gabriel had finished his last slice of cake, that definitely put him in a much better mood, and was stretched out on the sofa, idly watching the TV screen pulsate in the form of some sugary soap opera. When after a couple of minutes he heard the soft creak of the floorboards he peeked over the backrest.

“Are you sure it’s good for little-Mike if you pull on those jeans still practically wet?” he inquired innocently.

In the form of an answer Michael fastened the zip of his pants and did the button up. Then he sent Gabriel a hard look. It made the smaller man immediately more attentive of both his actions and surroundings.

“We shared a bedroom for years,” Michael said, his tone strained that he wouldn’t snap. “I think you had your opportunities to see me naked.”

“Pfft,” Gabriel waved a dismissive hand, but otherwise his eyes tracked the smallest of shift in the brunet’s movements. “I’m only concerned about the next generation of psycho assassins.”

“Funny as always, I see,” Michael noted dryly.

Still in the doorway he draped his towel over his head. The fruffy fabric fell in his face, covering entirely his green eyes. Gabriel was secretly grateful that he didn’t have to masterfully evade that gaze while remaining unyielding. Even with the mist of the shower curling warmly on his softened skin Michael’s look still remained terrifying like the sea.

Gabriel waited in stifled anticipation what face he’ll see staring down at him when Michael started on his track from the doorway in the TV’s general direction. He paused at the foot of the couch.

With a sigh Michael pulled the towel back from his eyes. They took up a darker shade - a much kinder shade. The emerald gaze still retained a cutting edge, but it didn’t held all the threats Gabriel had fled all those years ago.

“If you put candy into my pockets again, Gabriel, I won’t be happy,” Michael said, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Gabriel looked back at him with an innocent expression from the Renaissance church frescoes. The nervousness finally started to let up its tight knot around his stomach.

“I would never dare!”

Michael deemed his hair dry enough before he let the towel slip to the ground, and answered with a trademark _so done_ expression on his face. “Last time you melted an entire chocolate bar into my jeans’ back pocket.”

The slight exasperation and the memory finally cracked a grin on Gabriel’s mouth. It was really funny how, once every random few months, after shedding most of his protective golden armour and left his brazen sword outside the door, Michael fitted into Gabriel’s apartment as if he hadn’t been away on _Family Business_.

“It was _sooo_ worth it.”

The elder squinted back at him – in a way that he would dare call hostile.

His conviction only grew when Michael started his predatory walk towards his vulnerable self. Gabriel was just about to squeal for mercy, but then the sound stuck in his throat when the couch cushions dented under Michael’s knee, and soon Gabriel huffed out his breath saved for a cry for help as the brunet stretched himself out atop of the smaller man.

“Wow,” was all Gabriel could say for the moment.

Unconsciously his fingers immediately found their way to card through the thick, wet, dark locks. The familiarity of the motions seemed to calm the both of them – and as the tension slowly started to slip away from Michael’s muscles he turned all the heavier. Which Gabriel didn’t appreciate that much. But it still retained some kind of charm in a way.

“Did you two fight again?” he asked softly.

Michael didn’t answer, just stared at the TV. Or that empty spot behind it, Gabriel really couldn’t tell.

“That bad, huh?”

Michael made a noncommittal sound that Gabriel took as affirmation.

A thin string of pity was struck in his heart that resonated weakly in his chest. He wondered if he was ever going to see Michael when he wasn’t strung up after a fight he had had with Lucifer but… but despite everything it felt, no, not good, but all right, to be useful. To be of comf--

Ah hell no. He was just simply used as a huge teddy bear.

He scoffed at the atrocious thought. Under Michael’s great weight, Gabriel clumsily tried to nudge the other in the stomach with his knee. It turned out as a rather limited jerk of his body that was rewarded with a gloomy grunt. He rolled his eyes.

“I still maintain my stand,” he said on a serious whine-y tone. “You two should just fuck it out.”

“Still asexual.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes again. This time so hard he was worried they would fall out next time. He knew this tone. Way too well.

Before he could butt in, however, Michael launched himself into full, condescending lecture mode: “That ‘a-’ before sexual is a prefix, or affix that placed before a stem means--”

Gabriel quickly slapped his hand over Michael’s mouth. “Yes, I know! I could quote it in my dream, you non-sex-repulsed asexual, I swear to god!” In that moment Gabriel was really happy that his hand was where it was, because he just wrote up  another lecture for himself. Sweet Baby Jesus, why hadn’t he moved to India just yet? “And just for the record I would have kissed you silent, but you just had to make it your mission to squish me to a pulp.”

Michael lifted his head, and put his chin on Gabriel’s chest. He glared.

“Argh, hey no!” Gabriel cried out in surprise. It took most of his will not to jerk his hand away. Michael tried his damnest best to bite down at the meat of Gabriel’s palm. “And they call you the Sword of Divine Wrath. Stop it, Michael, you’re being worse than any pup I’ve ever had! Okay, okay, fine, fine, Jesus! You’re so gross! I don’t even think you should be allowed to stay.”

As soon as the words were out Michael froze. He slowly pulled away, with faintly glinting misery in his eyes.

“Oh,come on, Michael when did I not let you crash here?” Gabriel backpedalled quickly, and tried on a reassuring smile. Meanwhile he started rubbing circles on Michael’s shoulder blade - that was how he disguised wiping his spit-covered hand on the other as a placating, soothing motion. If he were to judge from the shiver running up Michael’s spine, he wasn’t sneaky enough.

“Well, there were a few occasions.”

“That was because you needed a hospital and not my couch to bleed out on!”

“It wasn’t that bad. Only one stab wound.”

“It was more than that.”

Michael’s eyebrow did that thing when he was in the difficult state of being _so done_ and fairly bemused.

“I didn’t have a concussion, I remember what happened.”

“A- _aah_ , you might not have had a concussion, just a fractured wrist, split lip, bleeding nose, a cut on your forehead, and oh yes, _three_ stabbed wounds and a bullet in your knee! I still have no idea how you made it here.”

“Had much worse.”

“I still don’t wanna know about all your maffia business.”

“Anyway,” Michael changed the topic willingly. “I meant the first time we met after you disappeared. If I remember right, you made a run for the fire-escape.”

Gabriel made a face at the memory and the self-approving tone. “Because you’ve got this stupid walk. I thought you came to kill me.”

“In your bakery, in the middle of rush hours. Right.”

Despite his best effort his indignation still wasn’t a good excuse enough for his blush. “A warning would have been nice.”

“So that you could catch the first flight to Mexico.”

Gabriel shoved at Michael’s shoulder. “You’re such a condescending ass!”

Michael laughed softly, the breath hot through Gabriel’s shirt. “That’s what Lucifer complains about all the time.”

“No, I mean it. I can’t wait for the two of you to shoot each other! Then I wouldn’t have a heart attack every damn time you swing by unannounced!”

There was no panic attack to compete the one he had had two years ago. Because that - _that_ almost killed him. Gabriel had just settled down in his geniusly self-made witness protection, just opened his own bakery and was just living the illusion of being far far away from the underground family drama, when on a very pleasant April afternoon Michael walked through the door of his shop.

Ever since then, however, their relationship had changed spectacularly.

Especially since Michael, thoroughly upset after one of his fights with Lucifer, ever so gently confessed how much he missed Gabriel…

“Has Lucifer visited you, yet?”

For a moment the blood froze in Gabriel’s veins.

“He hasn’t-- he doesn’t…. he doesn’t, does he???” he stuttered.

Sensing his ever growing panic Michael shifted and eventually pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He leant forward and pressed his lips gently to Gabriel’s pale cheek.

“He is your brother, Gabriel. Of course he knows where you fled.”

The younger gasped again.

“Did you tell… Did he mention that he…”

“No. But if I could find you, do you think he couldn’t?” Michael pulled back with a small smile. Now he was straddling Gabriel’s thighs.

“I- I… ugh, okay, I seriously thought… damn,” Gabriel pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He tried to take deep breaths to still his racing pulse. “The border’s really calling for me…”

“Hey, none of that,” Michael said. With deliberate movements he took hold of the other’s wrists and pulled his hands away so that they could lock eyes with each other. “You’re safe. To be honest, I suspect Lucifer found out sooner than I did. And if he didn’t deem it worth of sharing then I wouldn’t worry this much about it.”

Gabriel scrunched his face up into an ugly grimace. “Are we talking about the same Lucifer? The one worse than the actual Devil?”

“Blond, annoying, wicked sense of loyalty?” Michael shot back with an expression adorning his stupidly handsome features that Gabriel came to read as mock seriousness. “Yes, of course I’m talking about him.”

 It was really weird how despite the many (and by many, Gabriel meant _dozens_ ) of creative ( _bloody, master thriller movie quality_ ) ways Michael had come up with about ending Lucifer, the brunet had an awful lot of trust in Satan. So all Gabriel could say to that was, “Ew. Gross.”

Michael’s mouth only pulled to a smile that drew wrinkles to the corner of his eyes. Then, as the cruellest mean of retaliation, he settled back on top of the smaller man.

Gabriel tried to claw at the other’s shoulders, but to no avail. With a deep sigh he settled back against the armrest.

“I hate you so much.”

 

“Would you sit up? You’re getting heavy and hot.”

“I’m always hot.” Which meant, that Michael was obviously not moving at all.

“Fuck off.”

“But you make a rather comfortable pillow,” Michael purred, burying his face in Gabriel’s chest like an oversized cat he was in his rare moments of comfort. “Nice and squishy.”

“That’s it!” Gabriel declared, and squirmed so that he could grab the TV remote that was already halfway to disappear in the void between the couch cushions.  “You just signed your award for another Dr Sexy marathon.”

Michael made a disgruntled noise which came out pretty funny and tickling where he hid his face.

“Why are we always watching that crap?” he bemoaned with all the misery of a war veteran in his muffled voice.

“Because I refuse to watch Dexter or Hannibal or whatever horrific bullshit you must watch while I’m being crushed.”

“I don’t watch any of those.”

“American Horror Story?”

“No.”

“My neighbor is a psycho on the run?”

“The what?”

“Desperate Housewives?”

“Gabriel.”

“Okay, seriously! What do you watch? I must know!”

“Nothing.”

“Micha-eel!” Gabriel whined. He poked the elder in the ribs. Then again. And again. “Tell me!” Poke. “Tell me!” Poke. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!” He jabbed his pointy finger into the hard muscles of Michael’s side, that it really started to hurt by then, but he wouldn’t give up.

His efforts were finally crowned with a dismayed groan, and Michael pushed himself up and back into his previous position. Except now he leant further back, so that he could settle between Gabriel’s feet, then he threw his legs to the ground as well.

“You can’t leave me without telling!” Gabriel launched forward himself.

Michael rolled his eyes heavenwards.

“America’s Next Top Model. With Lucifer’s voice-over.”

“Seriously?”

“My life is miserable.”

“Do you think I can find some on TV right now?”

“Gabriel.”

“Or I can _definitely_ find some on Youtube.”

“Gabriel…”

“Hold on to your pretty ass, and I’ll grab my laptop.”

“Gabriel, please, _no_.”

By then Gabriel had already slipped far from Michael’s reach. He skidded down the hallway. From his desk he snatched his laptop and rushed back before the other could hunt down the rest of his clothes and whatever he had on him on his mission.

“I’ll show you that I can do much better dub than Lucy. Then you can go and kill a man, or escort a drug convoy or whatever the hell you are doing. Oh, this will be the best! Hey, grab the phone and order us some pizza, ‘kay? You can’t be on some stupid diet again, so no excuses. You can pick the season… Michael. Michael! Seriously, dude? How did you hide a gun in those goddamn jeans?!”

 


End file.
